


To See Again the Stars

by Novels



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Creation Myth, Crowley needs to be protected at all costs, Fluff, I'll update the tags as I continue writing this, M/M, unforgivable abuse of italics and capitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novels/pseuds/Novels
Summary: Crowley helps create the stars, accidentally acquires a friend, loses his Mother's love, anddreamsabout it all.Or, how Crowley finally remembers life before the Fall, and how that changes his perspective quite a lot, without actually changing it at all.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello! I'm just dipping my toe into the deep and unknown waters of this lovely, lovely fandom, whose fics I've been absorbing for the past few months to the point that I have almost forgotten the original. Almost.  
> So, here's a revised/revisited creation myth, because I have this picture of Crowley painting the stars stuck in my head and it just won't let me be.  
> It's a work in progress, but I have a few chapters already written up and the general outline as clear as it'll ever be in my mind, so I'm confident this will be finished relatively soon. I think I won't be able to update more than once a week, though, but never say never.  
> I hope you enjoy it, and do let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> P.S. The title is, of course, the last line of Dante's _Inferno_. Rather fitting, I find.

After the end of the world that wasn’t, after the end of his life that wasn’t, on the very first night of his brand new existence, which on the surface was remarkably similar to his previous one, Crowley slept. And, for the very first time, Crowley dreamt.

☆★☆

Darkness enfolded him, velvety and warm, full of potential. Crowley, not yet a body, but certainly already a being, twisted left and right and, for the first time, smiled. He was not scared. This soft obscurity was all he had ever known. 

It was Day One of the universe. In a moment, She would introduce the first dichotomy, but as of yet, only darkness existed, and it was home. Then light appeared, far away. Not that there existed any concept of distance. It pooled, creating ponds and splashes and golden rivulets. Crowley stared. _Magnificent,_ he thought, and the word, not yet expressed in sounds and letters, but expressed nonetheless, reverberated infinitely, not finding any barriers to stop its journey. Light kept spreading, and Crowley kept staring. The earth was born, below both light and darkness, and heaven followed, above them, if only there existed any concepts such as “below” and “above”. Crowley admired Her creation, and kept his not-yet-formed eyes on the light. On the second day, She created the sky. Crowley liked it. It was the result of light coated on darkness, the child of a binomial. He loved darkness, and he loved light. He felt a twinge in his yet-to-be-moulded chest, for he had been afraid, as much as a being of pure emotion could be, that the light would destroy the darkness, that it would take away his home, but it had not happened. Light touched darkness, and darkness reached back, and in their embrace, the cerulean sky was formed, and Crowley liked it. She, he decided, had _rad_ ideas _._ He stuck to his obscure bit of the universe, where he felt most at ease, and watched on. Dry land emerged, followed quickly by trees and flowers, and grass. She was especially intent on growing a huge apple tree, surrounding it with plants of all kinds, and rivers, and ponds. It looked beautiful. She, raising Her head towards him, basked in the unspoken compliment. _Thank you_ , he heard with ears that were not there yet. _You’re up next, I need a bit of a breather_.

Crowley did not understand but accepted Her word. She left Earth and reached out to him. Crowley went. They stood at the edge of the light, where it pooled most swiftly. Crowley could see the currents, the ripples as it flowed. _Breathtaking_ , he thought, not knowing what “breath” was, nor why it could, and perhaps should, be taken. She raised Her hand, and in Her metaphysical grip there lay a brush and a palette. It brimmed with light, with _colour._

_Do your very best, Dearest,_ she said. _I’ll be awake once you’re finished._

She yawned, and left Crowley with his tools. He knew, without knowing, what he was supposed to do. He had just been gifted with Creativity. Thus, he created. His brush dipped in yellows, and reds, and blues, and greens, and purples, and it stroked over the darkness, that beautiful, velvety canvas which was his home. Nebulae appeared. Then dots, pulsing, brimming with light, smattered all over. They twinkled. Crowley twirled, moving from one bit of the universe to the other, flying on wings he didn’t know he had. He was, for that grand, beautiful, perfect day, incommensurably _happy_ , and he painted on, revelling in his actions, until he gave the last touches and stopped to assess his work. Splotches of light stuck to his figure, not yet fully shaped but now sketched by the streaks of colour. She stood next to him, and looked at his creation.

_Perhaps,_ she mused after a long time, _just one more of these twinkly ones. Rather big, next to Earth. It will move things along quite nicely._

Crowley nodded. _Stars,_ he said. _I call them stars._ He brought up his brush for the last time and drew a round, yellow circle, dotted with reds and oranges. She nodded.

_Perfect._

And Crowley, his job done for the time being, rested as She made the animals and the humans. And then, She joined him in admiring Their creation.

_I only helped a bit_ , Crowley mumbled.

_I appreciated it,_ she replied, patting his soon-to-be shoulder _._

☆★☆

Crowley woke with a gasp, sitting up, blankets pooling in his lap. Never in his ever-so-long existence had he dreamt. _Never,_ in his God-less life, had he remembered Before. His hand moved of its own accord, touching his cheek and finding it damp. Another first, he thought, aiming for sarcasm and hitting heartbreak. His treacherous body sniffled. He found that he could not inhale well through his nose. It was clogged from crying in his sleep. 

Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. She had no right to intrude like that. To _remind_ him. He rubbed his eyes, shaking the teardrops away with an irritated gesture. He didn’t even know that his body could produce such a lousy, human secretion. And of all things, to shed them for _that._ For something which he had no right to remember, did not want to remember, and should not have remembered. Oh, She was _despicable._

Crowley collapsed back against the mattress with an annoyed huff. He felt so drained, and under any other circumstance, he would have found shelter in sleep. Apparently, She had decided to take that away from him, as well. For all his misdeeds, all his temptations, his hellish assignments, Crowley couldn’t help but think it was unfair. He did not deserve this, not after all this time, not after all this life. He did not want to sleep. He abhorred the idea of seeing Her again, seeing himself again as he was Before. Yet, he felt slumber descend on him and he knew it was an inevitability. 

_You are wicked!_ He shouted into the ether, desperate as he fought against the pull of sleep.

_Well, you do take after me, Dearest._

Crowley would have gasped, or jumped up, or perhaps widened his eyes in terrified incredulity, but She left him no time. He went under, succumbing to Her will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Crowley sat on a cloud, starry night twinkling in the background. Or, rather, Crowley was balanced on the edge of a cloud, peering downward with utmost fascination. Her creatures were most entertaining, and he could not get enough of watching them. He was all of eight days old, but he felt ancient as he watched Whale steer clear from Shark, Bee meet a flower for the first time and understand its role in the grand scheme of things, Human fumble about the Garden touching everything with fingers and tongue. What absolutely thrilling notions. Tails, hands, mouths, wings. Crowley liked the infinite forms of her Creation, and thus came about his first Question. 

_What do I look like, Mother?_

He felt her caress even though he was but a shadow silhouette streaked in golden hues.

_You might pick any shape you like, Dearest._

So Crowley revelled in Her touch, and chose hands like Human, and a mane like Lion, and wings like Crow. She smiled upon him, nodding her approval. 

_Will that be all_? 

Crowley hesitated. _Perhaps,_ he echoed Her words, _just one more._

And he picked eyes like Sun, which was his best creation, his most precious accomplishment. Beaming, she took his choices and moulded them into the most beautiful shape, incandescent and fierce. And Crowley put it on, and never divested himself of it.

☆★☆

_He looks lonely, Mother._

It was not a question, per se, but She heard it all the same. Crowley wrung his newly acquired hands, staring at the solitary human pacing around the garden. He did not realise that She had imparted no notion of loneliness or companionship on him. He had come to those concepts all on his own. Yet, of course, it is, as it has always been, easier to see loneliness in others than in oneself. So Crowley looked at Human and saw it, and did not acknowledge that he and Human shared more than physical similarity. 

She did not answer for a long time. Crowley went on watching Her creatures from the edge of his cloud, and hoped. That, too, was a concept he originated spontaneously.

Eventually, She spoke. 

_The Garden is in need of a Guardian. Human will have company, Dearest._

His love for Her had no boundaries; still, it seemed to expand ever just a bit more.

Her many, many eyes assessed him. Then, She went to work.

☆★☆

Guardian, Crowley thought, was rather helpless at his job. It amused him to no end: Human would sneak behind his back to pick from his stash of berries and flowers, and Guardian would do nothing to stop him. He would look away, smiling at the sky, at the Sun that was Crowley’s best creation, and let Human feast on his provisions. It took Crowley way too long to understand Guardian was doing it on purpose, that he was collecting berries and flowers for Human, as he had no other use for them. 

For the first time, Human had a friend, and Crowley thought that perhaps _that_ had been his best creation, all in all. Yet, Human was not fond of Guardian. Not as fond as Crowley was. Human, of all things, was afraid of him. Crowley believed it was because of the wings. Guardian had beautiful white wings, just like his, and Human eyed them with suspicion. He was still lonely.

Crowley asked again. 

_Mother, he yearns for a companion. Will you make him one, a peer? Not a copy, perhaps, but close enough? He seems scared of difference._

She did not utter a reply, but when the sun was once more high over the Earth, Human had become Humans. And, soon, he learnt, all animals had companions, and some of the trees, too. Whale became Whales, Bee became Bees. Only Guardian, it seemed, remained one. He looked on, vigilant over the garden, doing a poor job of keeping Humans away from his berries. They were _his_ berries by then: he had tried one a while back and found he was quite partial to its taste.

☆★☆

Crowley was only half paying attention the first time he heard it. A wonderful, rippling sound, like water hitting hollow rocks, reverberating. He looked away from a newborn galaxy and downwards, where Second Human was running from First Human, and she was laughing. _What a pure sound,_ Crowley thought. _Happiness distilled._ On that day, Crowley situated two more concepts in the grand scheme of things: happiness, as it echoed from the humans, and its opposite, sadness, which he believed he could detect in the kind eyes of Guardian, even at a distance.

On that day, he also learnt that the humans had given themselves names, unique and beautiful. Adam and Eve: the first man and the dawn of a new time. They did not name Guardian. Adam was still afraid of him; Eve was a tad more curious, but she was content to play with her human counterpart. 

Crowley mulled over the idea. He had named the Sun, and the stars, and all the other celestial bodies. Yet...

_Mother, do I have a name?_

This was Crowley’s fourth Question, one that should, perhaps, have occurred to him earlier.

_You do, Dearest._

He waited expectantly. She did not continue. For the first time in his existence, Crowley felt unease. He did not like it.

_What is my name?_

She took a long time to answer. _You will know, eventually._

He did not understand Her words. Why could he not know right then? Why would She deny him his own name? Still, he knew better than to question Her wisdom. He would wait for the right time to come. 

Unnoticed, the first seed of doubt was planted.

☆★☆

Crowley, who was not called Crowley back then, kept watch over the Guardian of the Garden as he pottered along. Guardian would sit quietly by himself for long stretches of time, looking at the sun setting, at birds building new nests, at lush plants blooming. He seemed to derive joy from all living creatures. When he got antsy, he’d pick berries and eat them with rhythmic slowness, savouring each with unmitigated pleasure. He’d groom his wings, dunking the tips into one of the streams that crossed Eden, splashing water on his long feathers, ruffling them before lying in a sunny patch to let them dry. 

He steadily did as little guardianing as possible. The humans generally stayed out of his way, although he had often tried to befriend them. All in all, it was a very peaceful tableau. Yet, Crowley could sense his loneliness, even in his most joyous moments. Crowley saw him looking at Adam and Eve, at Buck and Doe, at Lion and Lioness, with a soft smile and eyes that spoke of sorrow. Guardian knew he did not fit in with them. Crowley’s recently acquired heart endlessly broke for him. No creature should ever be so alone, but She seemed to have overlooked him. His unhappiness did not seem to matter to Her. Perhaps, Crowley thought, that was his role in Her Creation: to be the bearer of loneliness, of sadness, so that the rest of Her creatures could feel joy.

Yet, asking never hurt anybody. 

_Why is Guardian alone, Mother?_

_He is not._ Her answer came immediately, brusque and cold. Crowley almost tumbled off his cloud at the tone of Her voice. Almost. 

_But he is lonely, Mother. Don’t you see how longingly he stares at your creatures?_

She did not answer. Crowley’s mostly unsullied heart broke once more for Guardian. So it was his destiny not to have a companion. It seemed, Crowley decided, profoundly _unfair_. Guardian was a most beautiful creature and he deserved happiness—and not of the fleeting kind, either. He deserved the full, unending happiness that springs from knowing you are not alone in the world, you are not one of a kind in the most literal sense of the word. 

Crowley, for the first time in his existence, not only failed to understand his Mother, he _disagreed_ with Her, a notion that made him push some more.

_Might I visit him, keep him company, at least?_ He saw no harm in that. Crowley, after all, was lonely, too, if rather blind to the fact. 

_You shall do no such thing, Dearest. Earth is no place for you to be. Now, turn your gaze to the Carina Constellation. I believe a new star is coming into existence._

Crowley did not want to look at a newborn star; he wanted to ask his Mother why She was intent on making Guardian’s life miserable. But he was aware that Her will was unmovable and Her word unchangeable, so he stared at the birth of Eta Carinae, and if it shone way too bright, well, it had absolutely nothing to do with his mounting sense of injustice—and the [ Carina Defiant Finger ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carina_Nebula#/media/File:%22Finger_of_God%22_Bok_globule_in_the_Carina_Nebula.jpg)most certainly didn’t either.

Now, injustice was a difficult idea to situate. It demanded careful understanding of concepts like Right and Wrong, Fair and Unfair. It took Crowley several spins of the earth to process them all. He took his time, fueled by righteous indignation. Once he was done, though, Crowley had become aware of something he had always possessed but never thought he’d need to use.

Dusting off his Free Will, he made his very first Decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, more is coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! More is coming soon :)


End file.
